Fight the devil and the deep blue sea
by Marlowe97
Summary: We left our favorite couple in a bit of a breakup, or at least a break. And while Hyde found a new hobby and his domesticity, Jackie found that life can be just as intoxicating as love, that having independence could make you happy - even without a man by your side. How do you decide between freedom and love? Is there even a decision to make? Can you have both - and if you can, at
1. Chapter 1

_Hey there, hi there, ho there._  
_Back again! Unbelievable, right? Originally, this is part of a BIG story that is still being written, but it makes for a good story in itself, one that can stand on its own feet even if I might not ever finish the last big part (I hope that won't happen! I spent insanely long on it already!) _

_I wish you all fun with my Hyde and my Jackie (and my Donna, because I love my Donna!) and if you do, I would feel wonderful if you dropped me a line or maybe just left kudos, if it left you speechless ;-)_

* * *

On Sunday, Jackie took the bus back to Chicago. She stepped out into the bustling station and through the masses of travellers coming to or leaving from the Windy City, took the L-train and, after that, another bus to get to her apartment. She dug her keys out of her handbag and stepped into the slightly cold but comfortably furnished hallway, hearing her room-mate argue with her boyfriend about the best way to cut an onion in the kitchen. She immediately felt at home, same as when she stepped into the Pinciottis' house and wondered how it could be to feel _home_ in two different places at once and in equal measures.

The smile that started to creep up her face felt harsh and pulled at her skin, and Jackie realized that she hadn't spoken one word or changed her expression even one bit since stepping onto the bus in Madison.

No, that wasn't right.

She hadn't moved a facial muscle since leaving the bed in Point Place. Her mind was empty, but it was thankfully calm.

"Jackie? Is that you?" Duh – who else would it be? Jackie placed her keys in the bowl by the coat-hanger and stepped into the kitchen, which smelled of garlic and bacon and pasta. It made her swallow hard, the memory of last night's meal, with Steven, sitting wrong in her throat.

"Yes, Amy. Hey Aaron," she waved.

"You're home earlier than I thought. You want to eat with us?" Amy asked, her brown eyes open and friendly and welcoming. She always invited her if she cooked, and Jackie usually loved to eat with her – and Aaron – because that girl could _cook_. Now, though, she just shook her head.

"No, thanks. I'm… I think I'm coming down with something," she lied, too tired to explain things she didn't even understand herself. "I'll just go and lie down. Have fun."

"Oh, get better soon!", Amy smiled, then slapped Aaron's hand away from the bell-peppers. "Hands off, moron! You'll just cut them wrong!"

"How can you cut bell-peppers wrong, for God's sake! Can I at least boil the water, or is that too difficult for me, too?"

The voices receded as Jackie closed the door to her room. The two of them were always bickering and always sniping at each other, but anyone could see that Amy loved Aaron and that Aaron loved Amy. They were… well, they were disgustingly cute, and Jackie couldn't stand cute right now.

Unbidden, last night came to her mind. The smell of the sheets, freshly laundered and still with the strange but comforting lily-scent Mrs Forman's detergent emitted. The taste of his skin, slightly salty and so familiar and still so shockingly new every time. The sex, mind-blowing and fantastic, frantic and loving, relaxed and goofy. They had ended together in his bed every night, no matter what they'd been doing during the day. They always did this now, and Jackie hated it but couldn't stop doing it, never strong enough to resist his pull and never kind enough to refuse his hands and lips.

Nine weeks.

Nine weeks now since she'd left him in the restaurant, determined to come back when she was ready, certain she wouldn't call him before she had an answer for him.

Her resolve had lasted till Monday evening, when she'd picked up the phone just to talk about her day. And when she'd hung up, she'd known she couldn't do that again, not without betraying her own resolve of doing things on her own – for herself! Just herself, for now. And talking to him, listening to him listen to her, sometimes answering and sometimes just silent in a way that let her know he was smiling – that would weaken her, she'd known. She'd never be able to see if she could live without him in her life, because up to now, he'd always been _there_. Even away, he'd been there, hiding behind her reasons and her actions. He'd influenced her decisions and she wanted them back, wanted them for herself.

She only called him once more, to tell him she wouldn't call again until she knew the answer. He'd said he understood.

She'd believed herself, then. She didn't anymore.

Jackie hadn't called him again, not that week and not on the weekend and not on the week after. She'd just gone back to Point Place to visit her mom the weekend after that, and after an exhausting day at her mother's newest charity-project, Jackie had just wanted to hop in to bring Mrs Forman the beautiful scarf she'd found in Chicago that she'd bought her as a gift. Donna had been there, and Steven, and of course Mr Forman.

It had been an accident.

They – Donna, Steven and Jackie – had smoked pot in the basement and they'd had fun, played Monopoly – Steven had won, for some reason – and Donna had giggled and then started to cry about Eric and then she'd left and the two of them had remained alone.

And Steven – he'd taken a breath to ask her, and Jackie had just _known_ what he'd ask and she still hadn't known what to answer and to shut him up, she'd kissed him.

He'd responded at once.

They'd ended up in bed, sweaty and glowing and happy. Until, later that night, Jackie had crept out from under Steven's arms and left, slinking away like a one-night-stand without even waking him. She'd left a note - _I still don't know, I'm sorry_ and she'd gone back to Chicago.

So far, this wouldn't have been that bad. One bad decision… one spur-of-the-moment sexual encounter – pfft. Even Donna'd had that one, with Eric, that one time they were broken up. Before the not-wedding, Jackie thought it had been, but couldn't quite date it. At least she'd let Steven know that they probably weren't back together, not like Donna, who'd let Eric leave in the pathetic hope that everything was as it had been just because there'd been an orgasm!

Yes, that far, things would have been alright.

Except… Jackie found herself back at Point Place the next weekend, and in the exact same bed – luckily, not the same sheets – and this time it hadn't even really been an accident. She'd gone to the basement in hope he'd be there, and the minute she'd spotted him and that tentative, hopeful smile on his face, she'd jumped him.

The whole weekend she'd jumped him.

And the one after that. And the one after _that_. And… yes. Every weekend.

Even that wouldn't have been so bad, but she never called him! Point Place was Point Place, different rules applied there. Chicago… Chicago was her safe place, her haven. She was free here to be the Jackie nobody knew beyond what she was willing to show, where she could learn, free of any expectations, of any preconceived ideas about her. She could go to clubs and disco with her work-friends, could watch a musical or a movie without being criticised for her taste, could come and go as she pleased. She could be as rude or as kind as she wanted to be, and only had herself to hold her accountable, only herself to blame if her behaviour backfired and dumped her in the shit. Only herself to dig her out of said shit.

But Point Place was Steven, and history, and backstories and remains. She wanted him – god, she still never wanted anyone else! And in Wisconsin, she couldn't resist his pull, while in Chicago, she could pretend he didn't bother her, that he didn't affect her and that she didn't want anything more than make him happy and be happy alongside him.

She could pretend it didn't break her heart every time she left.

Some weekends, he'd tried staying awake to catch her before she slipped away, but nowadays he pretended to sleep, giving her the chance to go without forcing her to say something that might be a lie. And if he let her, it surely meant he was okay with this arrangement, right?

Right?

So she did, she left, and she'd go back the next weekend and she'd leave again come Sunday morning, go through work and life Monday to Friday, go back… rinse, wash and repeat.

If it was killing her worse every day, nobody would ever know.


	2. Chapter 2

Hyde woke with the pleasant warmth he carried over each Monday morning from the weekend he'd spent with Jackie. Not the whole weekend, basically just the nights, but who cared – it was Jackie in his bed, on top of him, underneath him, all around him. She was a whirlwind between the sheets, more enthusiastic than ever, shining down on him like a sun, bright and hot and burning.

She would always be gone on Sunday, but he didn't care, content with what she was able to give him, even if it was just Friday and Saturday night. Her smile, her happiness got him through the whole of Sunday and through most of Monday, and the rest of the week he still had some leftover warmth in his bones that more or less lasted him until it was Friday and anticipation got him twitchy and hopeful all day.

While it wasn't ideal, or what he'd hoped for, it was mostly enough.

And if he longed for her voice on weekday-evenings, he wouldn't admit it, and busied himself with other things so he could fall into bed and sleep and dream of her and what they would do the next weekend.

Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, he went to Kenosha to the skating-rink. Boxing at a sandbag in the gym hadn't ever given him the right kind of feeling, a bit too static for his tastes and without the right partner in the ring, he didn't like going one-on-one. In the Army, he'd only been able to really go at it with Dwayne, because, as he'd one day realized, with him he didn't mind showing everything he usually kept inside. Every other fight was exhausting in more ways than the purely physical. He'd have to be on guard, never show enough, never react to a taunt or a hit or pain. Always remember they didn't know him and shouldn't know him, always hiding what got to him and what didn't bother him. With strangers, or with people he might actually injure, he had to restrain himself and be aware the whole time.

With Dwayne, that had never been a problem, from the first moment they stepped in the ring together. Hyde wouldn't be able to say why or why him, but the fact remained that boxing or fighting in Point Place wasn't right.

So instead he went to play ice-hockey with a group of guys – and two girls – of varying ages from mid-forties to early twenties. They didn't play to win anything, there was no trainer and no training except for Oscar, a forty-something high-school-coach, who always told them to warm up properly and kicked their asses if they skipped. There was a lot of joking, a lot of shoving and yelling and some crashing others into the boards, quite a lot of illegal moves – like switching teams mid-play – and loads of fun. There was also the satisfying feeling of total exhaustion after staying on narrow steel-skids and sprinting on ice for hours that calmed his thoughts and silenced his mind.

Man, he was so fucking glad he'd found Forman's skates that day cleaning up his room. And so lucky they fit him. Eric hadn't played longer than a few months, said it was too violent for him – yeah, duh! – but Hyde had loved hockey when they'd played in school, that one year they'd had a proper coach. It was a bit different with adults. In school, most of the kids had been afraid of him and he hadn't had to work really hard.

He actually liked it better with real opposition.

Every time he came back home, Steven fell into bed and slept right until his clock woke him for work.

Work was another great way to spend time. On Wednesdays, he usually stayed longer, doing inventory and going over the new releases, thinking up ways to promote one of the school's punk-bands he'd accidentally seen play in a club one Sunday. They were fun, had smart lyrics to their hard, sharp sound and that they were all girls from Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow made it just that much cooler.

Those chicks really rocked. He only needed his father to approve of his idea, though he didn't think it would be a problem.

This week, WB was on a business-trip to New York. He'd asked if Steven wanted to come along, and he'd been tempted, so tempted! But they wouldn't be back until next Monday, and that would mean missing his Jackie-time and nope. He didn't get to see her enough to skip it, and since she hadn't yet given him a clear sign of yay or nay, he wouldn't risk it.

Maybe next time. In a few months, there was a planned trip to San Francisco, and he already knew he'd go. Steven had always wanted to see San Francisco.

So, Wednesdays were for work, for doing the nasty stuff like invoices, orders and tax-forms and he usually didn't get home until after midnight. As the boss, he slept in on Fridays, a luxury he could claim because Dave was there to open Grooves. Sometimes, when Hyde got bored, he'd come by anyway and annoy his employee by sorting the records into the wrong crates or arranging the cassettes in random orders – like age of the bassist, or shoe-size of the lead-singer. That was fun.

And whenever he found himself with too much time anyway, he did some stuff in the house. Stuff that before had been Forman's job, like sweeping the driveway and cleaning the gutter, or trimming the hedge. And stuff that was considered 'women's work'. Since he'd started talking with Donna more and more – there wasn't really anyone else he liked to talk to, except Jackie and well… – he'd come to the conclusion that the word 'women's work' was bullshit. If people – men – wanted a clean house, they should do something about cleaning it, and it wasn't really that hard to use a vacuum-cleaner every now and then. Or wash dishes or cook. It made his stomach do funny loop-de-loops whenever people praised Mrs Forman for her potato-casserole and asked her to hand out the recipe, which she never did.

He'd written it down for her, and Mrs F pretended it was hers, and he loved that she did. Because he couldn't care less about the women from church fawning over his cooking, but if _she_ liked it so well that she'd pretend it was hers – that was the highest praise he could imagine.

So yes, he cooked and did chores and sometimes cleaned the living-room and the kitchen, and if anyone would say shit about it, he'd give them the finger. Mrs Forman went to work every day and cleaned up other people's shit – literally! She deserved to have a bit less to do at home. Man can rebel against preconceived stereotypes by walking in protests, or protest by breaking those stereotypes every day, Donna had said. He liked the idea of rebelling with a vacuum-cleaner. After using the Army as his personal rehab-center, it sat just right with him.

"Morning," he greeted the Formans, already awake and bustling about in the kitchen. Red was making coffee while Mrs Forman made bacon and eggs on the stove. The smell hit Hyde like a pile of bricks and his inner dog started to salivate. "Wow – what's the occasion? We usually get coffee and cereal on Mondays. Did I miss a holiday or something?"

"Oh no-no," Mrs Forman giggled. "At least I don't think so – Red?"

"What? Dammit, Kitty, now I have to re-count the coffee. I told you I can't do it if you distract me every second!"

Mrs Forman leaned over and murmured to Steven with a wink in her eyes. "Oh-oh, Mr Grumpypants is exceptionally grumpy today." Then, at a normal volume, "Would you set the table, Steven? I've got three free days, starting today, and I want to do something _fun_." She clapped her hands, and Hyde heard a grunt from the area of the coffee-machine.

"That's cool, Mrs Forman. What're your plans?"

"Red is taking me to Chicago!"

Steven nearly dropped the plate he was holding, but managed to grab it at the last second. Chicago. He could go with them – see if he maybe found Jackie. By chance. In a city of over seven-hundred-thousand people.

Right. Hyde rolled his eyes at the idiocy of that idea. "Great, have a good trip. When're you coming back?"

"Tomorrow," "Wednesday," they said at the same time and Mrs Forman turned to glare at her husband. "Red Forman, you will not take me to Chicago for only one night! I deserve two nights, at least, Mister, and you will stay with me, if I have to chain you to my wrist."

"But Kitty…"

"No buts!"

"I still have Fez's handcuffs, Mrs F – if you want them?" Steven smirked and highly enjoyed the reaction it got him.

"You keep out of it, smartmouth!"

"Oh, that's kind of you, Steven, but I think I can manage this one without them."

"_Manage_ me? Kitty, I am not a… a business to be managed! I'm managing myself. I'm not manageable!"

"And don't I know it…"

Hyde grinned. Breakfast was a delight.


	3. Chapter 3

On Tuesday evening, Steven decided to skip hockey and instead called Donna from the Formans' empty, silent kitchen. Surprisingly, she answered at the first ring.

"Yes?"

"Hey Donna."

"Hyde? Hey, what's up?" There was a crash and a curse. "Sorry, sorry. My damn roommate can't be _bothered to clean up her crap!_" she yelled and Steven winced away from the speaker. "Sorry again. Why're you calling?"

"I'm bored." Donna laughed out loud, and Steven felt better at once.

"That's a new one. Why, aren't you hanging out with your ice-hockey-buddies today? Oh god – it _is_ Tuesday, right? Because I've got to go to this meeting on Wednesday and if today is _Wednesday_, that means I forgot and will be in so much shit…"

"No no –" Hyde interrupted, still laughing at her getting more and more frantic. "It's Tuesday. I'm just bored and don't want to go play today. So – you up for a spontaneous visit of Madison's many pubs?"

She laughed, then sighed. "Man… usually, I would, but…" She sighed again. "You know what? Fuck it. Yes, I'm up. Come over, I so need to get my head uncluttered. Bar-hopping sounds like fun."

"You are a lifesaver, Pinciotti. See you in a few."

"So, how're you doing?" Donna was chalking up her queue, smirking when Hyde had to look up from his shot to answer. The wench surely knew when to interrupt, but he was determined to win this round, at least.

"Fine, really." His ball rolled smoothly into the intended pocket, and he couldn't help but strut a little. It had been a good shot. "How about you? College still kicking your ass?"

She groaned. "You have no idea. There's so much work, but it's also mostly interesting. That makes it worse, because I want to do well with those subjects. It's totally surreal – I've never been interested in school much, but learning things here is so different. I mean, nobody really cares if I'm there or not, if I take notes or just sleep all the time. And yet – it makes me only want to work harder."

Hyde grinned. "I kinda get it. I mean, I never cared much about school, but when I go through the books from Grooves and find something that's bugging me, I can't just stop looking until I find it. It's weird – never thought I'd spend my nights voluntarily doing maths. But it's… I mean, it's _my_ store. If I fuck it up, it's gone. But if I don't fuck it up… well."

"If you don't fuck it up, you made it. You. All by yourself." She smiled at him, then bent over for her turn, wriggling her butt because she could and because she knew he'd stare at it and yet wouldn't do anything. He liked her confidence in their friendship, the trust she had in him even though he'd once nearly broken it by being a lovesick idiot.

So just because, he poked her with his queue and laughed at her outraged squeak.

They finished the round and left the table to a couple of students who'd been waiting patiently for a while now. Steven got them drinks – beer for Donna, Coke for himself – and a basket of potato-wedges with sour-cream and they sat at one of the tables.

"Have you heard from Eric lately?" she asked, drawing circles in the condensation from her beer.

"Nope, the asshole hasn't called for a while. Mrs Forman said he's on a photo-safari during his holidays, so he'll probably not call for a few weeks. Don't know what's wrong with his hands, though, the dick could at least pick up a pen."

Donna groaned and dropped her head on her arms. "God, I know! I just want to know what's happening there, if he's learned to speak Oshiwambo, or at least Afrikaans. How he's getting along with the teachers there – it's so frustrating! And everyone I mention it to starts with the 'oh, aren't you worried? You know they're all topless there, right?'-crap! It's like you mention Africa and everyone's all thinking of people dancing around a fire or hunting lions and elephants. It starts feeling stupid that I did all that research because nobody actually cares!"

"What, you mean they _don't_ all walk around naked?" Hyde gasped in mock horror. "And here I was booking the next flight over… you're destroying my illusions, Pinciotti." He dunked his potato in the dip and licked it clean, then dunked it again.

He got a slap on the wrist for that. "Oh gross! Hyde – that's disgusting! If you don't stop, I'll tell Kitty about your nasty habits!" She threw a napkin at him when he just grinned. "Seriously – shouldn't you be house-trained by now?"

The evening was exactly what he'd needed. Fun, flirting without any intent, shit-talking strangers and complaining over their workload. Hyde felt like a whole ton of shit got shoved off his shoulders, and the longer they stayed out, the better he got. It didn't even bother him at all that he didn't drink while Donna enjoyed her beer. At home, on some evenings, he'd felt the pull of the bottle more often than he liked to admit, or even think about, but it got always better with company. And Donna was the best kind of company.

"Forman is such a dink," he blurted in the middle of her funny tale of one of the professors who'd gotten his coat stuck in a locked drawer and startled her.

"Uh- what?"

"Ah…" Steven felt himself blush and twirled the locks at the back of his neck. Thankfully, he had his curls back by now, though his sideburns seemed to take their sweet time to come back the way they should.

"No – do go on, Hyde, because I completely agree but usually you don't say that, so. Go on," she made circling motions with her hand "let it all out."

"Yeah, I mean, how could he just up and leave, man? I get that he needed to get out – seriously, I _so_ get that. I mean, I like them," Understatement, "but his parents can be a bit overbearing." Another understatement. "So yeah. I get that. But… I mean, you two were good, weren't you?" Donna nodded confirmation. "So … I don't get how he can just throw you two, as in - _you two_ overboard without even a second thought? I mean, at least I really fucked everything up before I left."

She snorted very unladylike and responded with sharp sarcasm. "Yeah, he so should have had the curtesy to fuck himself up and maybe nearly marry a stranger, and not disappear when everything between us is running more or less smoothly." Hyde winced. Okay, that was probably not such a good point he'd made. "But I agree with you so far that he could have told me what's bothering him! I mean – I'd expect such shit from you, but we're talking _Eric_ here! He never bottles stuff up! I usually can't get him to shut his trap, but with _this_ he's suddenly all mysterious? Same with the damn wedding! Why not tell me that he's having doubts _before_ leaving me there like a complete idiot?"

Hyde chose to ignore the dig against him. She wasn't wrong, after all.

"And to think that I didn't go to Madison last year for that dick! I could have been studying here much longer by now! He's… such a… I don't even know!"

Selfish. Well, Forman was his best friend and brother, and he wasn't _actually_ selfish at all, but when it came to Donna, he could be such a self-centred fool, it was absurdd Steven had figured that out the day he understood Forman had been the one to break up the relationship because Donna wore the promise-ring around her neck instead of on her finger. She'd even said she loved him, that moron! But no – he'd rather not have her at all if he couldn't have her on his own terms. Dick.

Sure, it was pretty strange, coming from him, but he at least got that you just don't _do_ that to Donna. _Jackie_ was the one to woo with promises of forever and always, with weddings and marriage and a set future filled with love and happiness.

Donna? You got Donna by giving her adventures or, if you couldn't find them – or were too scared – by giving her the freedom to find them for herself. It was so weird that he seemed to be the only one of their friends who understood that. Fez and Kelso were a bit moronic and mostly didn't think beyond their dicks and Jackie was just so completely different from Donna, she probably couldn't ever get it. Maybe it was because Jackie craved security and Donna had had more than enough of that?

Jackie's homelife had been shit. Sure, she'd been treated like royalty by her parents, but they'd been away more often than at home. And if they were there, they'd mostly been busy with work and socializing, not even realizing that their precious little girl didn't have any friends apart from her boyfriend. Jackie had hung onto Kelso and, in addition, them; clung to Donna even though by rights, she should have been with her cheerleading-friends.

Except those had never been friends. It had taken Steven an embarrassing amount of time to understand that, and with it, Jackie's behaviour a bit more.

Donna? Donna had Bob and Midge Pinciotti. Even if Bob was weird and overly friendly, and Midge was – sorry – dumb as a loaf of bread, and even though they had split up, they had always made sure their daughter knew how much they loved her, done everything they could for her. Donna would never have to worry about coming home broke, broken or a drug-addict. Her family would take her back, no question. Hell, if she'd come home gay, Bob would start dressing in rainbow-flags the minute he found out, Catholicism be damned. There was absolute certainty in Donna's life, and Hyde had _craved_ that as a kid, yearned for it worse than anything, so hard it still hurt sometimes.

And Jackie had probably felt similar, though he didn't think she'd been as aware. Her problems had lain much deeper hidden, subtler than his own. But, in hindsight, that explained a lot of Donna's magnetism for Jackie. Ah hell, probably also for him.

But Eric, while knowing exactly how lucky he was to get Donna, to have Donna _love_ him, hadn't truly understood that she wasn't just a red-head and a foxy girl.

She was a true fox, and you don't put a fox in a cage and expect it to be happy. No matter how nice the cage, it would never be anything but a cage, and the fox would end up broken or a rabid beast. If you wanted to keep the fox, you had to be patient and feed it and protect it and always let it go so it would come back and be with you out of its own choice.

Again – how was Hyde the only one to see that?

This girl in front of him, laughing loud and blinding, drinking beer and philosophizing about inequality and male stereotypes and about her heroines that History tried to bury – this was the free Donna, the shinning Donna, the bright red fox.

And Forman, the complete _idiot_ was in fucking Namibia.

"Red's right. He's a dumbass," was all he said in the end. Donna though, blushed as if he'd blurted all his thoughts out loud.

Such a _moron_!

* * *

They left 'O'Riley's' and went to 'The Cave', since bar-hopping necessitated more than one bar. 'The Cave' had a dart-board and they started to play and it was pretty obvious early on that other than with billiard, in this game Donna wouldn't win. Aiming a dart wasn't even close to aiming a gun, but something had apparently stuck because Steven hadn't ever been this good at darts before.

"So, how're you and Jackie doing?"

He didn't miss the shot, though Hyde thought he would. His whole insides cramped at the question. "Good, I guess."

"Really? Are you like… back together?"

Hyde shrugged. "Kinda? Your shot."

"So… you're not together?"

"Man, is this an interrogation? Seriously, Donna, let's just play."

They did, for a while.

"It's just…" she started and Steven groaned. "It's just that I thought… you know. You really hurt her, so I'm just surprised that she took you back, 's all I'm saying."

"Well, she did." In a way. He wasn't exactly lying. "And why're you asking me? I thought she'd talked about it with you as soon as she could. Or didn't you listen at all?" Steven was getting angry, but he fought it. The night so far had turned out perfect and he didn't want to end it with thoughts about the Jackie-situation.

"Hm, she hasn't called in … weeks, I think. She's super-busy right now, but I'm glad if you two worked it out, Hyde. Really. Sorry for… you know." _Dragging my doubts out in front of you_.

"Yeah." They played some more until Donna admitted complete defeat.

"Let's sit. I can't even see straight anymore and that's not because of the beer. I only had like… three?"

"Four. Keep count, Pinciotti," Steven winked, but they settled down in a corner-booth with their drinks. He'd switched Coke for Root Beer since the sticky sweetness got on his nerves after two bottles. Crazy, how few drinkable drinks were available without alcohol.

"So, how's that idea of going out with this Marcus-dude going along?"

Donna groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm playing a game of chicken right now. 'Will I – won't I?'. I hate it. On one hand – he's cute and nice and we have a lot to talk about. On the other – he's not Eric. Which, honestly, is a _good_ thing because I wouldn't want to go out with Eric right now. Still… he's not _Eric_. I don't know if you get it… I don't even get it myself."

Oh, Hyde got it just fine. The way things were with Jackie, he couldn't really tell if they were even really together-together. Sure, she came by on weekends and they had fun, but it never extended beyond the bedroom, and on rare occasions into the basement. He wasn't even sure the Formans knew she was coming around. Once, he'd suggested catching a movie together, and Jackie had refused and pulled him back to bed for another round of raucous sex. If he were anyone else but him, he might start feeling like a dirty, little secret, a forbidden hook-up.

But it was Jackie, and he'd take whatever he could get from her, because even this was better than a full relationship with anyone else. Maybe, if this continued much longer, Steven's feelings might change and he'd be looking at and for other girls.

Right now, though, he was content. He'd let her take the time she needed to figure herself out - _he'd_ needed close to five months. Rushing this now would be like what she'd done back when, pushing for a finality that was not only unnecessary but also not in his books at the time.

In complete honesty – it still wasn't. The promise of a promise he could do, and living in the moment, enjoying what he got – that was great. Even if it was starting to feel like scraps someone threw to the dogs. He'd lived on scraps for a long time, he could do it for some more.


	4. Chapter 4

Jackie closed the door to her apartment and sank against it with a groan. Her feet were _killing_ her! She shouldn't have worn the new shoes today but they'd looked so darn cute and she'd decided to spoil herself a little.

Figured that they didn't fit her well enough to last through a day on her feet.

Amy wasn't home yet, she noticed by the keys missing from her bowl. It was Wednesday and on Wednesdays Amy had her art-course till ten at night, sometimes later if she went out with the other pupils. But from the noise in the kitchen, it seemed that Aaron was there.

Good, maybe he had some leftovers for her. Jackie was starving!

Moaning, she took off her shoes and massaged her feet, then threw the beautiful, beautiful shoes in a corner.

"Amy?" came the question from Aaron.

"No, 's just me."

Aaron's head popped around the corner. He grinned down at her. "Rough day, Jackie?"

"Yeah, don't mention it, please. Do you have by any chance something to eat in there?"

He laughed. "Of course. C'm on in, I'm nearly done."

The two of them settled at the small table in the kitchen, eating chicken-legs and oven-baked potato-wedges with their hands. Aaron was good company, didn't talk too much and let her babble without complaint if she needed to.

"How's the house getting along?", she asked.

Aaron was a carpenter, and his rough hands showed his line of work clearly. A not-so-long time ago, she'd have looked down on him because his work was dirty and rough, but Jackie had long-since realized that her ideas of a worthwhile job had been pretty screwed. Blue-collar work was just as, if not even more important than one where you wore pretty dresses and uncomfortable shoes, as she'd come to realize perfectly when their toilet had been clogged and the plumber had helped them with a fair price and even emergency-service at nine in the evening. A lawyer, or brain-surgeon would have been completely useless.

And Aaron was kind, funny and smart and actually made a decent amount of money. He had bought a small house in the suburb and was rebuilding and reshaping it to his own needs – and to health-and-safety standards, as it had been a dump when he paid for it. But he was skilled and had pals who didn't mind pitching in, and now it was slowly looking like something someone might like to live in soon.

He and Amy were the kind of people Jackie wouldn't have looked twice at during high-school, other than making fun of them. Aaron was a worker, and it showed in his shoulders and built, and his aversion to shaving. His hands were always dirty, probably nothing could scrub them clean by now except maybe a complete skin-removal, and he wore _checkered shirts_ all the damn time. He was taller even than Kelso, and had probably played football or something similarly violent in his youth, evidenced by a crooked nose. Nobody would really call him handsome, best Jackie would come up with when she had to describe him by just his looks was ordinary and boring.

He wasn't, not at all. Amy had chosen a wonderful guy, and if the two of them wouldn't make it to the pretty little house and a couple of kids and happiness until old-age, like the Formans, Jackie would be severely disappointed.

Amy, now Amy was easy to describe by old-Jackie. 'Fat', and that would have been it. It wasn't even true, Amy wasn't _fat_. She weighed too much, true, but there were still plenty of pounds separating her from true fatness. It hurt to think that someone like herself would have treated Amy like shit just for not being able to lose unnecessary pounds, shunned her for not being physically perfect.

Highschool-Jackie wouldn't have looked at her except in contempt and would have missed out on Amy's kindness, her patience, their silly evenings together when Aaron wasn't around with wine and cheese and chocolate and watching M*A*S*H on the couch in the shared living-room. Last week Amy said how much she liked seeing men in uniforms, especially dirt-splattered ones like the ones on screen, and Jackie couldn't help imagine Steven in that green uniform and … kinda spaced out a little.

Good lord, did he maybe still have one?

Ahem.

Anyways, Amy was just fun, and opposed to Donna, she and Jackie shared a passion for shoes and dressing smart and always appropriate. Old-Jackie would have denied that fat – overweight – girls could even _have_ taste, but Amy had it in spades.

Chicago had changed Jackie in more ways than just making her successful. Even with her 'training' through getting to know Michael's friends and kinda having her nose pushed into the fact that red-headed, tall girls, geeks, foreigners and burnouts were actually human, too, she'd still clung to some of her prejudices. Without Amy, it would have taken much longer for her to realize that it didn't matter how you looked – it only mattered what you did and how you treated people.

"So, how're things at your work? Any new and exciting things to learn?" Aaron teased, and they got a bit to talk about Chicago Life and Fun and her job at the channel.

"But honestly, I really think I need a few days off," Jackie complained. "I've been working from six-thirty till nine every day since last week."

"Wait, but I think you have the weekends off? Isn't that enough?"

She winced. "Yeah. But I'm over in Wisconsin most of the time, and that's exhausting, too. It feels like I'm strung out at all ends."

"Your mysterious boyfriend too caught-up in making the travel himself? Why do you always have to go there? Can't he come over? Amy and I won't mind, promise."

She winced. She'd told them that she had a boyfriend because it was easier than explaining the weird … _thing_ between Steven and her, and it still was. But it was starting to get even worse now, since she couldn't very well admit that Steven didn't know her address.

She hadn't given it to him, and even though he could've easily gotten it from Donna or Michael, he hadn't tried.

Jackie wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

"It's a bit complicated," was what she settled for, and Aaron, bless him, let it rest. When Amy came home, Jackie offered to clean up in the kitchen and then retreated to her room, leaving the two love-birds on the couch watching and mocking the Partridge-Family.

Like every evening, she reached out for the phone but didn't dial. She clutched the receiver close to her chest and tried to pretend there really was someone talking her to sleep. She knew it was silly – was pretty sure if she dialled Steven would answer, and he'd talk to her – or listen to her – as long as she wanted him to.

But what if he wouldn't?

So it was, once again, just the _toot-toot-toot_ of the phone that lulled her to sleep.

* * *

On Thursday, she got an invitation to go to a meet-and-greet with Helena and Eggy on Saturday, and she eagerly said yes. It wasn't just a great opportunity to meet people and learn about networking, it would also serve her well mentally. She couldn't keep running to Point Place every weekend, she needed to see if her dependency on Steven Hyde and their … their…. Their _whatever_ was getting out of hand. Maybe it would also push her into finally making a decision, as she'd shoved that away from her over and over in favour of having her cake _and_ eating it.

Friday was spent going shopping with Amy for the event, getting her hair done and calling Eggy every hour in fear she would forget anything or make a fool of herself. In the end, Eggy came by to pick her up and took her to a movie – she couldn't even say which one – so she'd 'calm the fuck down, gorgeous!'.

It helped as far as her falling into bed like a log, and her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were that she had forgotten something.

When Helena picked her up on Saturday, Jackie had been ready for over two hours and been sitting on the couch, barely moving a muscle in fear she'd ruin something.

"You look fantastic, Jackie. They'll love you, come one. You'll finally meet our real boss," Helena winked, and Jackie nearly peed her panties at the thought.

This was ridiculous! She was Jackie Burkhart, she never got so flustered by meeting mighty men! Why was it so different now? But every nerve that had been tingling started to calm down the minute she stepped into the hotel's hall that had been rented for this event. The decoration was adequate, the table-settings looked professional, the food smelled quite delicious, there were men aplenty who looked like money and this, _this_ Jackie could do in her sleep.

With a flick of her hair and a straightening of her shoulders, she stepped into the room and went into the fray. She was Jackie Burkhart – charming people was what she was born to do.

* * *

Half asleep and slightly tipsy, Jackie fell into her apartment. She giggled, and shushed herself, which led to more giggling. Things had been _great_ at the party. She'd played the room like a… like a thing, a musical thing. And she'd been virtuous! Uh… vir-tu-osy? Something like that that's good with music, yes. She'd _networked_ like Eggy had said, and Helena had said she'd done good, and that next time she would take her with her again and Jackie was so happy right now, so happy… and slightly drunk. But mostly happy!

She wanted to tell someone that she had been awesome, but Aaron and Amy weren't home. She vaguely remembered something about something somewhere else, so there was no-one to talk to and that made her a bit sad.

"Maybe I should get a cat," she said to herself in the mirror. "At least I wouldn't have to talk to myself and people could think I'm talking to my cat. Yes. Cats are nice, right? Purry and furry and nice." Eggy had cats. He could probably find one for her if she still wanted one tomorrow.

Hair undone and half her face clean of makeup, she heard her phone ring in her room. Finally, someone to talk to! She bounced over and picked up at the third or fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Jackie! Are you alright?"

"Oh, Donna! Yes, I'm fabulous! I was at this party with Helena and Eggy and we had so much funnn and I was _great_! Helena said that, she wouldn't lie. I was great, Donna!"

"Are you drunk, Jackie?" Donna asked, and there seemed to be amusement in her voice.

"Course I am," she started, but got interrupted by a hiccup. "Ooops! But I'm just slit- slightly tipsy. Not drunk. Don't" *hick* "Worry, no alcohol-poisinning for me. Hey – and I'm getting a cat!"

Now Donna just laughed. "Oh, really? I thought you didn't like hairs on your clothes?"

With a gasp, Jackie remembered all the fuzz on her beautiful dresses whenever Donna's cat had been in their room. "Noooooooo! No – aren't there like" *hicks* "cats without hair?"

"You want a naked cat?"

"Ewww! No!. Okay… no cat for me." Jackie pouted at the phone, because she'd love a cat! Maybe if she put all her clothes into plastic-bags?

There was more laughter coming from the phone. "Yes, I'd like to see that. All your dresses in garbage-bags? You could label them or even draw on them, so you'd know what's in which one." Apparently, tipsy-Jackie spoke things out loud. Oops. "Listen," Donna continued. "I just wanted to know if you're fine. I'm actually in bed already, so let's talk tomo – oh, no, wait, I've got this thing tomorrow. But next week, okay? I just had to check on you because _someone_ called and woke me up because you aren't were you usually are on a Saturday. So – please, Jackie, if you value our friendship…."

Whatever else Donna said got lost, since Jackie had made the mistake of lying down with the receiver to her ear. She'd tried, but the pull of sleep had gotten too strong. Distantly she hoped that Donna would be able to get back to sleep as well.


	5. Chapter 5

On Monday evening, Jackie got a surprise when she stepped into her home.

In the living-room on the couch sat her mother in all her prim glory, looking about herself with the immortal air of someone not quite comfortable with the poor surroundings but trying really hard not to let it show.

It showed.

Jackie had already known, but seeing with her own eyes how that superior gaze swept over her belongings, her furniture, her room-mate made her sorry for everyone she'd snubbed like that in Point Place. "Mother? What are you doing here?"

Amy was clearly relieved that Jackie had finally shown and quickly said her goodbyes. When Jackie mothed _'sorry'_ to her, though, she patted her shoulder in consolation. Either Pam Burkhart had not been as bad as she could be, or Amy was much more of a saint than Jackie had already known.

Or maybe she knew about embarrassing parents.

"Oh, Jackie, you're here finally. I was waiting for you for hours!"

"Well – if I'd known you'd come I'd have made sure to be here. Why are you here?" God – hopefully she hadn't forgotten something important!

"Oh, I was in Chicago today, and thought I'd swing by. Haven't seen you in a while, and I was starting to miss you." Right. She'd stayed away for two years when Jackie's dad got arrested and had been more absent than at home before that, but now a few weeks without contact made her mother _miss_ her?

Sure. And pigs could fly.

"Ah, well – I'm really busy right now, mom. So … uh, I need sleep. Beauty-sleep, you know?" she added, knowing it would appease her mother. She'd never quite figured out if it was because of Jackie admitting she needed sleep to be beautiful – other than Pam herself – or if it was a sign that her girl was taking proper care.

Her guess as to the reason varied with her moods.

"Oh, nonsense, Jackie. It's only seven, we have still time to go for dinner. I'm paying," she proudly exclaimed, and Jackie was too tired to argue.

She was also hungry and would never turn down free food. "Fine. Let me just wash up a little and get different shoes. I'll be out in a few. If you want something to drink, we have juice in the fridge." And wine in the storage, but if her mother started drinking now, this would turn into a complete disaster. Pam Burkhart wasn't a rambly drunk, or disgusting in the usual way, or one who started dancing naked on a table.

No, drunk Pam Burkhart started hitting on everything male that moved and sniping at everything female until it _didn't_ move anymore.

Drunk Pam was a grade-A b-i-t-c-h.

So Jackie quickly washed and changed her blouse and pants into a dress, slipped a small but warm knitted jacket over her shoulders and went back out.

"Do you want to go out like _that_?" her loving mother proclaimed, and Jackie scowled. "Don't make that face, young lady, it gives you wrinkles. We have time, you can touch up your makeup. I can help you, if you need it?"

"First – I don't need make-up help from you, mom, not since fifth grade. Second – I'm going out as I am, I look fine and I just want something to eat. Nobody will care."

She'd look gorgeous even with wrinkles, anyway.

"Fine," her mother huffed and got her coat and purse. "We're taking a cab, though, I'm not going in one of those ugly trains." That was perfectly fine with Jackie. She'd just come from those trains and a bus, and she wasn't keen on doing it again.

* * *

Even tired and not much in the mood for her mother's company, Jackie was enjoying the meal in the upscale French restaurant Pamela had chosen. The salad had been fresh and well-prepared, the dressing was interesting and the bread soft and crunchy in the right combination. The main course – entrecote with potatoes Parisienne and very tasty vegetables – was letting her forget the stressful days and her body began to relax. The wine did help with that, too, but Jackie had limited herself to just one glass. She still couldn't remember much from Saturday after they'd opened the bar at their meet-and-greet, and her Sunday had been spent in bed and vegging on the couch, watching Love Boat and Fantasy Island and Charlie's Angels – and other crap she didn't remember.

In all honesty, a day with nothing on her agenda and nobody to bother her had done her good. She'd gone to work Monday with a lot more enthusiasm, but over the day she'd started to miss Steven. Her body hadn't felt right without the memory of his touches, and everything seemed duller and darker, even though when she'd concentrated, she'd seen that everyone was exactly as always. It must have been her, then.

"So!" her mother startled her out of her thoughts. "I was a little surprised not to see you at home this weekend, but I'm glad you're doing well here. I know I'm not much of a mother, Jackie, but I really wish you only the best. You're my beautiful girl, everyone should give you what you're due!"

Jackie cringed at the reduction to mere beauty. Her mom always did that, told her how good she looked and how much everyone was fawning over her, and how she should seize every opportunity her body gave her. It made her feel dirty and – well, like a prostitute. A few months back, she'd read an issue in 'Cosmo' about women's rights and one part had stuck a chord in her. _'I'm more than just my body!'_ had been written in the caption, and it had concentrated on attractive women in different but successful careers, who all, nonetheless, had experienced being belittled and reduced to their looks. One of them had captured her especially. She'd forgotten the name, but the woman had looked simply gorgeous.

She'd been to the University of California, had _two_ PhDs in something Jackie hadn't heard of and was now a lecturer at CalSci. She couldn't have been older than forty, Jackie would guess, and in the interview, she'd stated that outside of her closest colleagues, she was always judged first by her body, hair and clothing-style and second – if as that! – by her accomplishments. It had shaken Jackie to realize that in this world, a beautiful woman would most often be defined only by her body; her worth would be measured in heads she'd turn and her wealth would depend on how well she'd be able to preserve her beauty.

It shocked her even more to understand that the doctor had said she'd experienced this not only from men, but also by quite a lot of women. And Jackie had shamefully realized that she was just as guilty of that. She'd done the same, over and over and over, and not just to women. 'Uggo', 'fatty', 'poor', 'cripple', 'pimple-face' and worse.

Her mother, initiated by _her_ queen-bitch of a mother, had started Jackie on that path, and was still doing it right now. And Jackie, even though she hated it, would go along with that tonight because she was too tired to fight a battle against a smooth, beautiful, totally oblivious windmill!

She might call Donna, though, and let her rave about inequality and testosterone poisoning and let her talk about the female heroes in History. Jackie might always call her a geek, but she enjoyed the lectures of the great women in the world quite a lot.

It gave her hope for being more than just her body, one day.

"Thank you, mom," she said, a painful smile on her face. Her mother wouldn't understand her point if she corrected her, told her that she had the job not because of her beauty – okay, it probably didn't hurt that she looked good on camera – but because she worked hard and did it well. "How's your… Uh, thing going?" Dammit. What was her mom's project these days?

"Oh, the school-kitchen is doing fine." Ah – right! School-lunch. And it was actually a good thing to get into, since even with the disappearance of Edna Hyde years back, the food was still intolerable. "We're trying out a few new cooks, see how they'll do with a bigger crowd than they're used to – and hopefully we can get those darn kids to eat a vegetable once in a year."

Jackie burst out into giggles at that. Her mother, one of the pickiest eaters she knew, complaining about teenage eating-habits in such indignation was just too funny.

"Don't laugh, Jackie. It's important that children don't just eat French-fries and chicken-wings! There are more food-groups than 'deep-fried'! There would be much fewer fat kids around if the school, at least, could provide healthy food. If people are too poor to cook for their children or hire a cook, then at least the schools should take an interest! Healthy people are smarter people – we'd have less burnouts and school-failures if we fed them better."

Amazing, how her mom could invest herself so deeply into the feeding of strange kids when she'd completely failed at being a mother when her own daughter had needed her.

Then again, Jackie had changed a lot in the last years, and it would not be fair to deny anyone the possibility of bettering themselves. Maybe her mother was just hopping on the newest hype and trying to get attention, or maybe she really cared about school-meals. In the end, it didn't matter. If the meals improved through her mother's forceful attitude, it didn't matter if she did it out of selfishness or altruism.

Maybe Jackie could give her the benefit of a doubt, for once.

"No, mom – sorry, it was just your expression that made me laugh. I'm really glad you found something for yourself that makes you feel appreciated." Jackie smiled at her, a lot more genuine this time.

"Thank you, darling. I'm also very glad that you found your place in the world. If you need any help, don't hesitate to call me, alright? I still know a lot of people and if you need it, I'll call them all and make them help you."

While she could've done with less condescending hand-patting, it was surprisingly nice. Her mother would never win 'mother of the year' – that one would surely go to Kitty Forman – but she was trying now, at least.

They chatted along for a while and it got later and nicer than Jackie had anticipated. Her mother insisted she'd let the cab take her home first – not that Jackie put up much of a fight – and on their way out, Pamela nearly tore the carpet out from under her feet.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to ask – did you talk to Sven on the weekend?"

"Uh – what? No…"

"I'm just asking because he came by on Saturday and I didn't know if I could give him your number, you know?" No – no, she didn't know. What? Steven had gone to her _mother_? Why? "I didn't give it to him – if he didn't have it, I figured there's a reason you're keeping him away." There was – no, there wasn't! Well… maybe there was? "I thought you were with him the last weekends; didn't you tell me that?"

"Ah, yes, yes. I just… the party on Saturday, I didn't have time…" and she hadn't called. She _hadn't called!_ Vaguely, she remembered dreaming of Donna calling her, asking if she were alright – and had she mentioned Steven? It … maybe it wasn't a dream at all? She'd been pretty drunk, after all. Oh god!

"Oh, well – fine. So if he comes by again – do you want me to give him the number? Or are you not done punishing him now?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Notes: Thank you, dear "guest", for the lovely reviews! If there is more than one, thank everyone! I can't reply to you directly, so I'll let you know this way that I really appreciate your words. Hugs and Candy! :-) _

* * *

Jackie couldn't hear much above the pulse thundering in her ears. "Punishing him? I'm not punishing Steven!"

"Not? Oh, well, I thought that's what your whole fuck-him-and-leave-him-thing is all about."

What? No! What? "I … I'm not – Mom! How can you think that I'm … I don't _do_ that!" A few weeks back, she'd talked about Steven with her mother and how he made her feel so confused and angry and hurt and in love with him, but she'd never in her wildest dreams thought _this_ would be what Pam Burkhart got out of that conversation!

"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Jackie. I've done it myself a few times. It's very effective, they hardly resist anything after a few weeks of that treatment." Pam smiled and patted Jackie's arm, clearly pleased with her for doing something that despicable!

"Mom! I don't want to – he's… I'm not… Why do you think that I'm doing something like that?" She had to know. How could anyone come to this conclusion? It wasn't … there wasn't really anything to punish Steven _for_, and if there were, she'd never do it in such a way!

"But Jackie. How else should I interpret your actions? You're here in your city with your friends and your great job, and he's … well, there. On the weekends, you go over to him and have sex with him and _just_ sex, as you told me, and then you leave again. If you're not doing this on purpose, I really wonder why you're doing this at all?"

"But Mom, I told you, I… I don't know yet if … I want to be with him, for real." Jackie's voice had dropped and she felt a shiver run over her whole body. Had she done what her mother accused her of? Was she doing that? "I would never hurt him like that," she whispered, but she wasn't sure it was the truth anymore. "I would never do that."

She felt the arms of her mother circle her and draw her close, and for a while she let herself be comforted. "Oh Jackie. I'm neither a good mother nor very wise when it comes to true love. I'm sure you know that. And I really don't want to make you unhappy, but darling," she stopped and drew Jackie's face up so she could look her in the eyes. "You shut him out of your life. You didn't give him a way to reach out to you, _you're_ the one holding his strings. He's already tangled, and if you were doing this on purpose," Jackie took a deep breath, but Pamela spoke over her "which you say you're not! But if you were, this would be the time to reel him in and make him dance and do what you wanted. When he came by on Friday, he was really trying hard not to look pathetic, but darling – I know pathetic men. He put on a good show, but the truth was plain to see. If you don't want to hurt him, and have no agenda for yourself here, you _have_ to let him go."

Jackie sniffed, not caring if her face got blotchy. If her mother was offended by her messed-up mascara, she could just let her face go and she wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

She didn't, though. "I don't think I can, Mom."

There was a softness in her mother's face Jackie hadn't seen before. "Oh honey. Then _tell_ him. What you're doing here is dangerous, especially when you don't know what you're playing with. I once made this mistake, tried to play the game for too long, and" she shook her head sadly "it didn't end well. I might have – no, I did hurt a young man by not recognizing that he would already do anything, _anything_ for me. I kept playing with him and in the end, when I realized it, he had left everything behind and was prepared to go with me, to the end of the world. He'd left his fiancée and broke with his family and abandoned his dog and begged me to come with me. And I had to break his heart into little tiny pieces, because in all honesty, I didn't feel half as much for him as he did for me." Her eyes were full of sorrow, and Jackie knew, deep down, that she was telling the truth. Her mom wasn't really that good a liar. She shuddered at the thought of her own mother doing something so cruel, but … she wasn't really surprised. "Even now I wonder sometimes if it wouldn't have been kinder to let him tag along. He'd probably preferred scraps from me than honesty that day."

Jackie was stunned. She felt herself be drawn to her mother's chest, between her breasts, and felt her stroke her back.

Her mother … wasn't just a loose woman, a drunk floozy. She was a calculating bitch who used her looks and influence to get what she wanted. Yes, Jackie had always _kinda_ known, but hearing it like this… It hurt. And was Jackie herself also that horrible of a person? Had she done all that her mother talked about – even if unwittingly? Had she hurt her precious Steven, maybe even beyond repair, by playing with his heart? And here she'd prided herself for becoming such a good person, when in reality, there was a monster under her skin! A cold-blooded, man-eating monster.

She sobbed, because even with that newfound knowledge, she still wanted her mommy, wanted to be held by her and hugged by her and let her fix her mistakes for her. Wanted to be loved by her.

And to her great surprise, Pamela Burkhart actually did. "Oh darling, don't cry. It's not too late, I'm sure. I know it's hard to make a decision – especially one where success can't be measured in money or influence or fame. But you're not a child anymore, Jackie. You're a young woman. A young, beautiful," she smiled "_strong_ and courageous woman. You're not me, or your father. You're making your own decisions now, and you're making good ones. Better than mine, by any measure. But," she gently pushed Jackie away, holding her at arms lengths so she could see into her eyes. "you _have_ to make one now." Pam drew her back in and whispered into her hair. "And I think you already have."

* * *

All the way back, Jackie's thoughts kept spinning, never catching on to one long enough to follow it through. Her mother, her father, her life. Her Steven. Her job, her friends, her other friends, her room-mate. Her boyfriend. Her decisions, her path, her pain and fear and anger and sorrow.

Her shame.

When the cab stopped in front of her apartment-building, her mother stepped out with her. She smiled tentatively, and for a second, Jackie imagined she could see the young woman her mom had once been, not yet transformed into that soul-eating praying mantis she was now. Fleetingly, she wondered if someone as cold-hearted as her mother was even capable of loving anyone, but she had to acknowledge that at least she'd tried tonight. And she'd tried with Bob, when Jackie had confronted her about her behaviour. Maybe she truly was a man-eating critter, only able to connect with her own offspring.

Either way, even though her new knowledge of the ways her mother was controlling the lives of people around her sickened her, Jackie had to concede that Pam had given her a shove she'd desperately needed. Without her, she might still keep doing what she'd been doing, and she might even end up like her mom. Cold, ruthless, calculating.

Alone.

Most of all, alone.

"Mom," she asked at her door, turning at the last minute and stopping her mother from re-entering the cab. "That young man… when was that?"

Pamela smiled a sad smile, and there was something in her eyes that had Jackie re-examine her findings for tonight. "A long time ago, Jackie. Before your father." There was sorrow there, and maybe a hint of shame. Whoever that man had been and whatever she had felt for him, she still carried that reminder of him, of what she'd done to him. It still pained her, Jackie could see, and it gave her hope. Maybe she'd been too harsh with her judgement. As long as Pamela felt this way, knowing she'd done wrong, there was proof her mother wasn't just a cold-hearted snake. She was capable of – maybe not of loving, but capable of understanding love.

"I left him to be with your father."

Jackie nodded. Yes, that would do it. "Thank you for dinner, mom. And for the advice."

"Have a good night, darling."

Jackie closed the door from the inside, cold deep into her bones. Numbly, she went to the elevator, numbly, she went into her apartment and into her room. Numbly, she sat on her bed and stared at the clock.

Half past eleven.

She had to go to work tomorrow, couldn't skip – it was important. Helena had insisted that anyone who called in sick would need a damn good reason – like a heart-attack or a broken spine – for not showing, and while her heart felt broken and bruised, that certainly wasn't enough. She'd have to work the whole day, and Wednesday, and Thursday and if she was lucky, she could get Friday off, and then – only then! – could she go and leave for Point Place.

That was too long. If she'd truly done – and the more she thought about it the more likely it seemed – what her mother had accused her of, then waiting three to four days was too damn long to let Steven stew in whatever she'd done to him. Yes, she'd been doing that for a long time already, but last weekend she hadn't shown up and Steven had gone to her _mother_ to ask for her number, had called Donna in the middle of the night on Saturday. She'd worried him deeply on top of everything else, and she needed to at least lessen his fear.

But calling him? She'd said she'd call him when she made a decision, but apart from knowing that she wanted him in her life, she didn't know in what capability. As her boyfriend? Her weekend-lover? Her friend?

All of the above?

Yes. Yes, all of the above!

But first she had to apologize, and she couldn't do that over the phone! There was too much she had to say, and she still felt bruised and battered.

"Why can't love be simple?" she asked her room, but it didn't answer.

* * *

It was midnight when Hyde let himself into the basement via the back-door. He'd gone out with three of his teammates, all colleagues from one of the big hardware-stores in Kenosha. They had the week off due to re-modelling of their store and decided to go for drinks after hockey and Steven had tagged along.

While him and Alfred had stuck with root-beer, the other two had done away with quite the amount of alcohol, considering they had wives to go home to. As one of the sober ones, Alf had offered to drive Kevin home and Hyde had taken Mike, and even though it was quite the detour, he hadn't minded one bit. The later he got home the faster he was asleep.

It was crazy, he thought as he silently closed the door so as to not wake anyone. He'd been worried sick about Jackie but even knowing she was fine – hearing that from Donna, who had her number and wouldn't give it to him! – he still couldn't stop fretting.

He knew Jackie had been at a party, and had probably simply not called because she'd been busy. Same on Sunday – Donna had told him Jackie had been drunk, and drunk people forgot stuff. Even important stuff, like maybe calling the maybe-boyfriend when they knew they'd worry! Boy, did he know how that went... So yes, Jackie was fine, Donna was pissed at him for calling her so late, Pam Burkhart was a bitch who still didn't know his name and Mrs Forman mothered him worse than ever, more than even Eric!

And so it was no wonder Hyde tried to spend as few hours in his room as he could. Maybe he should get an apartment of his own, but for now, until Jackie made her decision about his – their, but basically his – future, he didn't want to move just yet. Maybe he'd move further out. Like Chicago.

Or not! He wasn't thinking that far ahead yet. Making plans based on other people had backfired so spectacularly more than once in his life, from early childhood to just recently with Bud, that even now he tried to avoid it at all costs. It was completely unfair that a teeny-tiny pretty princess could throw all his carefully crafted and hard-earned habits overboard.

Friday night should have reminded him, but even sitting on that couch like a complete tool, waiting for that door to open until it was clear she wouldn't come, going over to _Pamela freaking Burkhart_ to beg – no, _ask_ for Jackie's number the next day and be refused, finally calling Donna and freaking her out – all that didn't stop him from thinking about how it could work with the two of them, and where they might find a place to live that would make it possible to commute.

He was an idiot.

Because maybe Jackie _had_ made her decision, one that didn't include him. And maybe that would kick him hard in the balls and leave him breathless in the mud, but he'd get by, right? He could live without Jackie, even though it wouldn't be as nice as living _with_ Jackie.

He could. If she'd decide to break up completely, he'd be okay. Eventually.

Gently, he thumped his head against the closed door, more or less exactly the spot he'd punched weeks ago. He was such a love-struck idiot, but right now he didn't want to be anything else. If waiting here in limbo meant he'd still have a chance – however tiny it was – then he'd wait in limbo for a while longer.

The shrill sound of the phone nearly gave him a heart-attack and he scrambled over the couch to get it before it woke the Formans upstairs.

"'lo?" he hissed into the speaker, trying to get his heartbeat back under control. "Whossit?"

First, he didn't hear anything. _Prank-call_ he thought and was on his way to slam the receiver down again when there was the faint sound of a sniff.

"Hello?" A softly hitched breath. "Jackie?"

This time, it was a full sob.

"Jackie, hey, is that you? What is it, talk to me, man."

More sniffing. _"'s me, yeah,"_ came a whisper, nearly inaudible.

Hyde let out a deep breath, one that felt like it had been lodged behind his lungs for years. "Jackie," his voice was hoarse. "What's going on, are you hurt?"

_"No."_ She was still whispering. Was she maybe not alone?

"Are you at home?" _Are you safe?_

_"Yeah."_ But she continued to sob quietly, and it was slowly freaking him out.

"Are your room-mates there? Is everything okay? Please, grasshopper, talk to me."

_"I… I want to come over, but I can't."_ Hyde frowned and took a look at his watch. It was nearly one. _"I have to work tomorrow, and I can't come earlier than Friday, maybe … maybe Thursday. But that's too long, I want… I need… I have to… My mom, she… I… And then I… " _

She was starting to break into sobs again, and he couldn't understand her anymore. The only thing he heard was 'Sorry, so sorry' and for a moment, he felt his insides clench painfully.

But she'd said she wanted to come over, and would she do that if she wanted them to end? Whenever they'd seen each other, they'd been in bed quicker than bunnies in their holes, so it wouldn't really make sense for her to come over for a break-up. She wouldn't be sobbing if she truly didn't love him enough to continue their lives together.

"Do you want me to come over?"

Silence. Not even a sniff. Then: _"Would you?" _

"Of course. I… honestly, I'm not sure I can make it tonight. My legs are pudding," she giggled and he grinned "yeah, yeah. But I can be there tomorrow, after work. Would… is that okay?"

Only scratching sounds came from the other end. "Jackie, I can't hear you if you nod."

This time, she chuckled much louder. _"Yes, yes that would be okay. So much okay. Could… I – my address, I never… My number! I've gotta give you my number. Get a pen, get a pen now!"_

"Whoa, hold your horses, I have a pen."

_"Do you have paper? Don't just write it on your hand, Steven! They'll get smudged and I need you to have my number, do you understand? Steven!"_

"Yes, yes, I have paper – jeez. I got the TV-magazine, I can write it on the back."

She gave him the number and repeated it, twice, and then made him repeat it once more. And while Hyde thought it a tad obsessive of her, having her phone-number made him feel incredibly happy, so he didn't really mind.

Afterwards, she gave him the address and without prompting, he read it out for her. "I'll be there right after work, so… roundabout eight, nine. Maybe if it's not too busy, I can close early, but I'm not making promises. But I'll be there before ten, okay?"

_"That's … that's great! I'm so… you don't… I wish you knew… I…" _

He laughed. "Jackie. Calm down."

_"But what about work? It's a weekday, Steven! You can't just skip during the week!"_

"Ah, but I'm the boss, right? I'll try to get Dave to cover for me, but if he can't I'll just close it till Friday, when it's his shift anyway. It'll be fine, I'm sure nobody will care." Much. Not much. And those that did care could go buy music on Friday, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Chicago was a lot harder to navigate than Hyde had thought. He even had to switch off his music, but not until 'Born in the Bayou' was done playing. Good thing Mr and Mrs Forman still had the map from their three-night-trip last week, or he'd been totally lost. Only downside was that he'd had to tell Mrs Forman what he needed it for, and she'd cried all over the kitchen for him being so romantic and how her _sweet little angel_ \- apparently that was him, what the hell? – would now move out, too, and leave her all alone. Even telling her over and over that he wouldn't move out _that_ soon, she'd cried some more and then proceeded to pack him sandwiches that would feed a small army. Or just Dwayne, whatever came first. Seriously, that woman was _nuts_. But it still made him all tingly inside when she called him her boy and showered him with completely unwarranted praise and an overabundance of caring.

If everyone were that nuts, life would be much cooler.

So now, after promising to be back on Monday at the latest, he was trying to find a parking-space that wasn't too far from the apartment-block and which would give some protection to his precious baby. Just as he decided to go another round, a battered Ford drove off and he slipped into the spot with a stupid grin on his face.

Sometimes, the little things could brighten a day.

Overnight-bag on his shoulder, he stepped out and checked the address again. Just two houses further, across the street and take the elevator to the fifth floor.

Nervously, he wiped his hands on his jeans. Stupid. What was there to be nervous about? Jackie had asked him to come, she wanted him here. He wasn't gonna find Kelso, or anyone else in her room, and even if, he wouldn't jump to conclusions again because that would be moronic. So. Just get up there and try to figure out what Jackie had tried to tell him last night.

The elevator-ride was incredibly uneventful, but it seemed to take freakin' forever. When the apartment-door opened after his knock, he had to blink twice and he probably looked like an idiot. In front of him was a tall, wide-shouldered guy with hair even frizzier than his and a nose that had seen a fist one too many times.

Or maybe a ball, but it looked quite intimidating. The guy frowned at him, then raised his eyebrows. "Yes? Can I help ya?"

The whole situation was so goddarn ridiculous, Hyde had to laugh. It didn't help him much with this guy, and he reined it in quickly. "Sorry, sorry. Uh… Is Jackie here?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Hyde."

The guy frowned. "What? Why?"

They stood in front of each other, frowning, both clearly puzzled, until a female voice from behind the guy called "Aaron, who is it?"

And right after that, his girl. "Oh my God, out of the way, you lumberjack!" He had to laugh again, this time in pure delight, when his tiny, annoying, favourite cheerleader shoved past the guy – Aaron – and jumped into his arms so hard he had to take a few steps backwards as to not fall on his ass. "You're here, you're really here!"

Inhaling her scent, something settled again inside him. Good lord, he was so gone for this girl. If Forman had felt like this for Donna – hopefully, that idiot still did – then it was no wonder he'd become even more stupid when they'd finally gotten together. "Hey there, grasshopper," he whispered into her neck. "How about we get inside? My back's complaining a little right now. All that drivin', you know?"

"Of course, my poor baby. Just – one thing?" Fortunately, she slipped out of his arms and stood on her own feet. Then she looked at him with her big doe-eyes and said "This is like, official, okay? I want you as my official boyfriend again and for as long as … well, forever, if that's in the books. But let's see how it goes, okay?" She smiled her brilliant smile at him and Steven's last scrambled parts inside clunked into place and that little bit of weight that had been sitting unnoticed on his chest fell away, leaving him happy - _happy_ and wonderfully light.

"So, Jackie, is this one the reason you've been cleaning the place like crazy?" A heavyset girl stood in the doorway, her arm around the Aaron-guy's waist. She grinned. "Because if so, I'm gonna want to thank him." Looking at him, she added "Our toilet hasn't been that clean in ages." Hyde liked her immediately.

Especially when her words made Jackie blush all over. "Shut up, Amy!" she hissed, but Hyde just held her closer and walked over to the couple.

"Yeah, hi. Hyde." He held out his hand.

Amy took it. "Amy. This 's Aaron. Come on in, if you don't want to spend the night in the hallway. We're not gonna heat this drafty old place by keeping the door open all night, _Jackie_."

His girl grabbed his sleeve and dragged him inside, straight through the little hallway with the coats and a ridiculous number of shoes. "Hallway, kitchen," she pointed in passing, "living-room, bathroom's over there and _my_ room, where we'll be going right now and not leaving." Hyde let himself be pulled. Her bedroom was exactly the place he wanted to be in right now.

Steven heard the laughter from Amy and Aaron follow them, but Jackie shut the door and leaned against it as if to stop him from leaving. Pff. As if.

"Hey there, grasshopper."

Jackie made a motion towards him, but then visibly pulled herself away and sat down on her bed. Then stood up again and began to pace, only to sit down once more and stand up _again_. Hyde was getting dizzy, and was too tired anyway. He found a comfortable-looking chair in the corner of her room and put the clothes that were piled on them on the bed. Taking in the room fully, since apparently Jackie was still busy with her pacing, he sat down and leaned back, feeling the tension from the drive flow out of him.

If she didn't start talking soon, he'd fall asleep.

"What's up, Jackie?"

She sighed and sat down on the bed – again, but this time she took a deep breath and bit her lip. "Okay, I have to apologize."

Oh God, this was like that time he'd eaten one of Edna's 'chilies' at home. At the time he'd barely gotten his stomach back in order when it had started hurting again and he'd had to bend over the toilet once more, until there wasn't anything left he could've spilled. This felt exactly the same, this strange hope-despair-hope-joy-despair-thing he had going since Saturday. Luckily, puking wasn't on the agenda. Yet.

"For what?" he asked, wishing like hell he'd brought his shades.

"For treating you like I've done the last weeks."

Steven frowned. He couldn't really remember anything worth an apology. Except the no-show Friday, but it wasn't like she'd actually _said_ she'd be there, so… "Uh. Okay? Apology accepted." There. Done. Now – back to kissing, maybe?

Jackie perked up, but something on his face must have shown that he had no clue what she was talking about and in typical Jackie-fashion, that wouldn't do. She never liked to say something with one word if she could find ten or more for saying exactly the same!

"No, Steven – I… I feel terrible. My mother – my _mother_, Steven, had to show me how shitty I've been to you! So I'm really sorry for … for punishing you. I don't even know if I have any right to punish you, and I didn't want to! Please, believe me that I didn't. But I strung you along and … and I don't want you to be pathetic, Steven. You don't deserve to feel like a prostitute!"

Punishing him? Prostitute? The hell? "Uh, Jackie – what? Let me try to get this straight. Your mother told you that you're punishing me – or that you should?" She shook her head to the second, so …. "Okay, and you didn't want to, but maybe you did and … now I'm a … prostitute? No, I'm sorry, this makes absolutely no sense. But," he held up his hand when she started to speak again, "it doesn't matter. Because if you were punishing me – for god reasons I think – you did a shit job of it. Punishment is useless if the … punished person doesn't know he's getting punished, and even more useless if he doesn't even notice. And I don't feel like a hooker. So really, Jackie – all's well." He smiled. "If you think coming by and having sex with me on the weekends is _punishment_ for me, you really don't know me very well."

She snorted, but her eyes were still shiny. "You … you didn't feel like I was keeping you out of reach? Like I was holding your strings to make you dance whenever I felt like it?"

Steven thought about it. Well, he had felt a bit left out of her life and like a weekend-fling, but it wasn't like he'd minded that overly much. Sure, there'd been many times he'd liked to see Jackie and tell her some funny moment, or wished for her to call him and babble stuff in his ear, and nights got a bit lonely sometimes. But he was used to lonely, had slept alone for most of his life. And Jackie needed her time – she deserved the time to figure herself out. He'd needed his ten weeks and to be truthful – he'd needed the Jackie-less time as well, with small doses of Jackie and time for figuring shit out about himself. 'Shit' like what he liked to do when not smoking pot or drinking.

"Not really, no."

"Really? Wow." She laughed again, a bitter sound. "And here I am freaking out for nothing. I feel silly."

"Come here, Jackie," he said and she walked over and sat on his legs. Steven drew her close and held her tightly, and smiled into her skin. "Maybe you don't get it, but it's like this: you needed time to figure this out. When I give you that time, it's your decision what you do with it. If you wanted to spend it here without me – yeah, sucks. But I've been in freakin' Oregon, and nobody even knew, so I can't complain about you being in Chicago – with a lot of people knowing where exactly you are. I had my time, and … uh, I really kinda needed it." He swallowed. "And if you need me to stay away longer… it's okay. I can live with that. As long as you don't jerk me around by playing me against Kelso, it's fine."

She sighed into his hair. "Good. I thought … I never wanted to really hurt you, you know? And I'm glad I didn't. But my mom was right. And yes, I'm just as surprised as you are about that. She said that she did this – only coming over for sex and keeping away in between – on purpose to some guys and that it… she said … well, she might have said it not directly, but she used that to get what she wanted. And … I didn't want to do that to you, it wasn't my intention to punish you, even though _maybe_ I might have done it a little bit on purpose?" She didn't look at him but the way she'd stilled told Hyde she was waiting for a reaction.

And well… He'd be a liar to say that their hook-ups hadn't reminded him of high-school, when pretty girls would sleep with him – enthusiastically – and never even give him the time in daylight. So yeah, maybe it hadn't felt good, but life rarely felt good. That made the good times that much more special.

But he hadn't been lying when he'd told Jackie he never considered it a punishment. Just… being in limbo. Waiting for the hammer to fall – hopefully this time, not on his foot. And Jackie wasn't the kind of person to fuck with just anyone – if she came for sex, she still felt something for him. As long as she'd come by, he'd known there was a chance.

It's why the weekend had freaked him out so much.

"That's okay. We won't tell anyone. Now… since you weren't in Point Place this weekend, how about we make up for the lost opportunity so we're back on schedule?" He smirked, and she hit him on the shoulder.

"You pig. I bare my heart to you and you only think about sex! Ugh!" But he knew she wasn't serious – he could see her smile in the corner of her eyes.

"To be fair, I never asked you to bare your heart, sweetheart. I only came here for a nookie."

She slapped him again and jumped away from him. "Oh, that's it, Mister! You will not get anything tonight – go sleep on the couch!"

Steven laughed and tried to catch her, but she kicked and struggled and if she hadn't been giggling like mad, he'd have let her go. As it was, he grabbed her easily and threw her on the bed, then let himself fall next to her, his arm across her belly. He felt her laughter and smiled, then grabbed her again and rolled them so she was on top of him. "Are you done?"

"No, I'm not done, you oaf! I told you I don't want you tonight, and I meant it!"

He stared at her, then let her go completely, letting his arms fall onto the bed like he'd been shot. "Okay." Unsurprisingly, Jackie didn't move. "Can't help but notice you're still here, Jackie?"

"Yes." Her voice had gone husky, and she kept scratching her nails over his t-shirt. "I'll let you sleep on the couch tomorrow. Right now, shut up."

That, he could do.

* * *

It was strange, he thought afterwards. He usually liked his freedom and independence, prided himself of being his own man and not letting anyone get his or her hooks in deep enough to control him. He'd gone to the Army only after knowing he'd be able to leave after the ten weeks, and wherever he lived or worked there was always the very real option of letting all fall behind if he needed or wanted a change of scenery. Even after living with the Formans for so long he had very few possessions he absolutely couldn't live without, most of those were on his body every day anyway. His watch was one... Right now, in the blissful afterglow, he couldn't remember much more than that. Of course his car, that was a given. Anything else was just stuff, and even the stuff that held emotional value wouldn't be enough for him to stay if he felt leaving was necessary.

If Red kicked him out for real one of these days, he'd have one bag full of stuff and that'd be it. Not like Jackie, with her army of suitcases and bags and stuffed animals. He would leave everything he now owned without a second thought, no matter who had given it to him or what it reminded him of. Maybe he'd take one or two pictures.

Possessions possessed _you_ when you gave them the ability to hold you in place, and he felt uncomfortable even thinking about being dependent on people or belongings. A psychologist would probably love to explore and examine this, but Hyde preferred nobody poking around that little black hole. He had a feeling there wouldn't be anything nice behind his attitude, and he liked to keep un-nice things away from him.

So. He didn't like to be tied down in life but, strangely, he _loved_ it when Jackie was above him, in full control, pressing his hands against the mattress above his head. At first when he noticed how that position gave him the best orgasms ever, that even imagining it got him hard faster than any other fantasy, he thought it was because Jackie – nimble but tiny, light Jackie Burkhart – couldn't possibly _hold_ him if he wanted to be back on top.

But then one day in their early relationship, after a game of basketball in Forman's court, Donna had tackled him for something and held him pretty much in the same position and he hadn't dared to buck out from under her for she might realize he'd had a hard-on of epic proportions. Just from that position, because not before nor after had he felt excited anymore if Donna was close to him or even touched him.

Yes, okay – Donna would always be more than a hook-up or an easy lay, so it might not mean that being held down was a real kink for Hyde but more of a person-related… _thing_, but still. Donna would have been able to keep him down easily, and the idea of _Jackie_ being able to pin him still sent thrills all over his skin.

Maybe one day they'd explore that little thing further. Maybe one day he'd let her tie him up.

Oookay – yes, that … yes. Definitely one day!

For now, he was content lying close to his girl, freshly showered and calm inside and out. Jackie was already snoring slightly against him – but of course he was mistaken, Jackie _didn't snore, Steven!_ \- and he felt himself drifting off as well. Things right now were nice. Maybe it could stay that way, and maybe he'd get a bit more insight into Jackie's life. She'd seen his life already, since his old life didn't differ much from the one after he came back from Oregon. He'd really like to see her workplace, if he were honest – maybe she'd let him pick her up tomorrow and take her somewhere nice to get dinner?

Before, he'd explore the city a little. Funny, he'd never been to Chicago – well, apart from that abysmal moment at the motel. Maybe he'd check on Brooke and Betsy. If Kelso would be there, he'd probably tolerate him – much easier if Jackie wasn't anywhere close by.

* * *

The next morning, Jackie was up way too early for his liking. He grumbled and mumbled into the pillow until she resigned herself to eating breakfast alone and leave him in her bed. Maybe a good boyfriend was supposed to wake up and make coffee for his girl, or at the very least say goodbye to her before going back to bed, but since Hyde had never been a boyfriend before meeting Jackie, he pretended it never occurred to him and just closed his eyes.

When he woke up next, it was ten-thirty. He stretched and yawned and stood to get a shower, remembering first to put on some clothes since he had no idea if Jackie's roommates were still around.

After shower and brushing his teeth, he started his exploration of Jackie's home. The bedroom he'd already seen, less pink than her old one but still with an explosion of rainbows, hearts and unicorns, and the living-room wasn't much of a surprise. It had two couches that looked comfy but were incredibly ugly, even to his tastes and a low table covered in magazines stood in between. _Urban Gardening, Cosmopolitan, Teen,_ a few comics – cool, the newest _X-Men_! Hyde hadn't read this one yet – and, for some reason, quite a few issues of _Improve your Home_ and some tool-catalogues.

An armchair stood in a corner close to the window, next to a small, wobbly table with a few books and a coffee-mug that had probably not seen water or detergent in the last year.

There was another door off the left from the living-room, and Hyde supposed it was Amy's. The kitchen was separate and off the small hallway, and in it he found not only cold coffee, stale toast and dirty dishes but also Amy.

"Oh, uh. Hey," Hyde greeted, surprised to see her. He hadn't heard a sound from her during his snooping.

"Mornin', sunshine" she growled, looking as grumpy as she sounded. "We're no hotel, so if you want food, go find it yourself." She waved towards the fridge and stared back into her newspaper while holding on to her cup as if she expected him to steal it.

He opened the fridge and found a wrinkly cucumber, two glasses of jam, butter, a tomato and two empty juice-cartons. Raising his eyebrows, Steven instead looked for the coffee-maker, emptied the old grains and put a new filter in, then looked around. "Uh, coffee?"

"Second shelf, above the stove."

"You want another cup, Amy?" he asked. She nodded so he made enough for four cups and then, not wanting to sit down when there was this mess just next to him, let in the water to start on the dishes. That got a rise out of Amy.

"What'cha doin'? I can clean it up later. Just not in the mood right now…"

"It's okay, I don't mind."

"Nice," she smirked and finally put her paper down. "So, you're really house-trained? Thought you were the scruffy, don't-bother-me-with-domesticity-type. Then again, if you're Jackie's guy, you must have hidden talents in that regard. She's quite the picky type."

Hyde snorted. "Yeah, you'd be surprised."

Amy leaned on her elbows, studying him intensely. He pretended not to notice and kept his back to her while soaping up the glasses and three mugs before taking on the greasy pots and pans. When she had stared enough, she spoke again, aiming for casual but failing hard. "So, you're the mysterious boyfriend who we haven't heard much about, huh? What was your name again? Sam?"

She knew exactly what his name was, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Close enough. And you're the room-mate I haven't heard anything about, huh?"

Amy chuckled. "Touché. It's just strange. Jackie is so not a quiet person, and she can babble on for hours. But whenever the topic came to love and boyfriends, she always shied away or changed the subject. I was beginning to think you weren't real."

"Hit a rough patch. Did some shit, didn't do other shit – stuff like that."

She stood and joined him at the counter, starting to dry the dishes. "Okay. Just – don't mess with her, Curly. I really like that girl, and I wouldn't want to sic Aaron on you. He might get a hangnail."

Hyde laughed out loud. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? But don't worry. I don't plan on messing with her."

Not quite convinced, he could see, Amy took him in closely. "Ookayy. Probably no-one _plans_ that kind of thing. But let's pretend that's true. What're you doing for life, huh? Hyde, was it?"

Sighing, he scrubbed at the pan for a while before answering. "Own a record-store in Wisconsin. It's doing okay, so I'm not after her salary, don't worry." He didn't want to add that if he wanted, he could always ask WB for money, mostly because things would have to be really dire if he had to resort to begging from his dad. "And what're you doin' to get by? I'm guessing you're not in customer-services."

"I like you, Curly. No, I'm studying economics at UIC. Want to open our own business, Aaron and I, and that seemed a good start for us. He's the brawn, I'm the brain."

"What business?"

"Aaron's a carpenter, and one day soon his boss's gonna retire and if all goes to plan, Aaron's gonne take over from him. I'd do the bookkeeping and…"

"Customer service," Hyde interrupted, laughing sharply. "You'll need some more lectures about that."

"Ah – but you're not a customer, Curly. You're just the roomie's boy-toy."

"Probably not. But if you wanna be successful, you'll need to treat a _possible_ customer better than this," he smirked. "After all, how many dirty and scruffy-looking people could be millionaires in disguise?"

Amy laughed, and when the coffee was through, she poured him a mug full. He took it as the silent approval it was probably meant to be.

"Is there seriously no food here?"

"Sadly, no. We didn't have time for shopping yet, but feel free to pitch in. Wouldn't want you to feel like a freeloader, record-man."

Hyde was liking her more and more. She could battle with him like Laurie used to – sharp-tongued, quick and well-aimed hits that didn't hurt at all because there was no emotional baggage tied to the opponent, and which were fun to throw back in equal measures. He'd always kinda liked Laurie for her ruthlessness, if not for her character. In all of her evil, slutty ways, he'd never truly worried about hurting her, because she owned her decisions and took his snaps in stride. She was probably still hiding her ways from Red, because she wanted to be his good little girl and also didn't want to hurt him, but she'd never even tried with her mom or anyone else, and in a way, Steven respected that.

Still wouldn't wish a daughter like her on Mrs Forman. On dark nights, when he'd still been living with Edna, he'd sometimes imagined pitching Laurie and his mother against each other. Most times, he'd see Laurie win, and in his dreams, she would parade her superiority around Point Place and people cheered her for it.

Yeah. That was another of those things he'd never let anyone know.

"Any requests?" he asked and Amy looked up, probably surprised that he was actually going through with shopping. It sure wasn't his favourite pastime, but sitting around on other people's couches all day waiting for someone to arrive had lost its appeal completely since coming back from Oregon.

Boredom led to thinking, and thinking was to be avoided or only done in well-dosed quantities. Before, he'd quell the turning thoughts with alcohol or weed, but drinking was out and he didn't feel comfortable enough to smoke up in this apartment. He didn't know Amy and Aaron, and also – no food.

"No, whatever you wanna bring is fine. I try to live mostly vegetarian, so maybe not like… ten pounds of steak. But I don't mind meat in the fridge, so just go get what you like."

"Cool."

"Here," she said opening her wallet. "I was just kidding – we usually split the shopping, so here's our share. Maybe if you're man enough, bring some fresh vegetables, 'kay?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "You mean the stuff that's canned, right?" She rolled her eyes but then her gaze fell on the wall-clock and she sprang up in a hurry.

"Shit shit shit – I gotta go! Jackie left you her spare-key in her bowl in the corridor, don't lose it! See ya, Hyde," and she rushed out, colliding with the doorway and cursing all the way into her room and, just as helter-scelter-ly, out the front door.

He really liked this chick.

Alone now, he didn't waste too much time. He drank his coffee, skimmed the paper Amy had left behind in a messy pile, then pocketed Jackie's key and the travel-guide to Chicago Mrs Forman had insisted he take along and went out.


	8. Chapter 8

Work had been stressful to the extreme. Helena had arranged a local politician as a guest, and they'd had to clean everything possible so he wouldn't think they were unprofessional, and everyone had to pitch in, no matter if they worked the camera - _Matt_ \- or sound and light or post-production. Then, when Mr Big And Important had arrived – surprisingly a very friendly, nice man who probably wouldn't have minded a bit of dust – they'd had to be on their toes and read his every wish from his eyes.

Jackie wasn't sure who'd been more uncomfortable – him for being waited on so excessively, or her, for being reduced to coffee-and-cookies-girl.

Either way, the interview had gone very well, they'd managed to prevent any bloopers and only had one giggle-incident that had been quickly resolved, and they'd been sent home early for being such good workers. Helena's words.

The whole train-ride, she'd been twitchy with nerves. While at the channel she'd not been able to think of Steven, now on the way back she'd done nothing but. Was he still there? Had he been bored? Had he maybe accidentally burnt the place down? Gotten into a fight with Aaron? Had he snooped – and there she'd spent ten minutes going through all the things in her bedroom that might be compromising but luckily hadn't found anything she'd be too ashamed for Steven to find – or had he been out and maybe gotten arrested? Or been mugged! Chicago wasn't Point Place, and being from the wrong side of Point Place didn't mean people were prepared to enter the bad neighbourhoods in Chicago!

Seeing his car in its place from yesterday, she lost some of her nervousness but there were still options enough to get her pulse up.

At her door, she pressed her ear against the wood, trying to hear anything. No loud voices, nothing really.

Hm.

Nothing but facing the truth now, was there? With straightened shoulders, she opened the door and was greeted by a smell that had her stomach gurgling loudly in reaction.

Wow, food! Real food!

"Hello?" she called, hoping it wasn't just Amy and Aaron in the apartment. "Is there food left? I'm starving!"

"You sneaky girl," Amy called from the kitchen, "you never told me your little boyfriend can cook!"

"What?" Jackie stepped into the room, where Amy and Aaron sat with Steven around the tiny table. It didn't look like there was space left, and the big casserole-dish was already half-empty. Something potato-y was in it, and it smelled like heaven. "Because I didn't know he can."

Steven stood up and kissed her, shoving her slightly out of the door against the corridor's wall. Growling, he waved a hand behind his back to the two people in the kitchen. "Get lost," he muttered, "you had your food, fuck off."

"But Mr Manners, he ain't," Amy snarked. "C'm on, Aaron – we know when we're not wanted _in our own kitchen!_" Normally, Jacky would snipe back but she didn't give a damn about anything but Steven's lips on hers and his body pressed against her.

Distantly she noticed her roommate leaving, and she could have happily spent the night against this wall. Her stomach, though, had different ideas, and when it complained loudly about its empty status, Steven laughed into her mouth. It was weird and strangely exciting, and tasted a little bit like onion. It made her belly growl once more. "Didn't you eat anything all day?" he whispered. "Sounds like either that or you swallowed a grizzly."

Jackie felt herself blush, and she hit his shoulder with the flat of her hand. "Shut up. I had a sandwich at lunch." She couldn't remember if she finished it, though. It had been a crazy day. "Is there any left?"

Reluctantly, Steven let her go, then smiled at her this sweet, boyish smile she'd never seen him use on anyone else and her knees got week and wobbly. "Sure is, doll. I'll heat it up, the two lumps you're allowing to live here only ate their share."

"But you ate already," she pouted. "It's weird to eat alone with someone watching."

"It's not. But if it makes you feel better – I haven't eaten yet. Was waiting for you." He smiled, then it turned into a grin. "But it was a real close one – thought you'd be back much sooner."

"Ugh, we actually got out early. You have _no_ idea the crap-day this has been. Let me tell you, Helena was going nuts over that stupid politician! Well – he wasn't stupid, he was actually very nice and good-looking, but she went all out…" She continued to rant about Helena and all the work they'd done for her while taking off her shoes, sliding into her comfortable slippers, walking into her room and taking off her work-clothes to change into comfortable things like a sweater and comfy pants. When she came back into the kitchen, the casserole was in the oven and Steven had put clean plates on the table as well as glasses. She stopped, realizing he probably hadn't heard half of her complaints, but since he was being domestic and nice, she let it slide. "Wow. Did the Army beat you out of being a caveman?" It had just slipped out, and just as quickly as it was spoken, she wanted to take it back. Maybe Steven didn't want her to joke about that?

But Steven only grinned, showing his teeth. "No, actually, that would've been Mrs Forman. In the Army, you only learn how to take your tray away yourself and eat without complaining. Seriously – that stuff was barely above edible."

"Well – this is really nice. Thank you." She smiled, then frowned. "We have wine, didn't you find it? Or did Amy drink it all up by herself again!" Typical!

"Oh, uh, yeah. I didn't know what you wanted. So – wine? Red?" Jackie nodded and sat down, salivating already from the delicious smells. It wasn't just that – it was the sheer surprise that Steven Hyde had cooked for her. He hadn't ever cooked for her before – but then again, they'd mostly eaten at the Formans or in the Hub or somewhere out, and they'd never truly been to her house and if, never used the kitchen. "What did you make? It smells amazing."

"Potato casserole. It's easy to make and everyone likes it, so I thought it was perfect for getting on the good side of your room-mate." He smirked "and yours, of course."

"Well, you can stay on my good side alright if you cook for me every day," she smiled at him, giving him the full experience of her gorgeous eyes, blinking innocently. "Feeding me with good food is a good way to keep me happy, Steven, and happy Jackie is a very, very" she lowered her voice "_very_ appreciative girlfriend."

Steven's eyes went unfocused and he licked his lips, then lowered his gaze to _her_ lips, then lower… "Aren't you hungry?" she whispered, then turned around and grabbed her fork, perkily clinking it to the plate. "So, serve me dinner, house-boy!"

It took a while for him to get himself back together, Jackie could see, but eventually he went to the oven – a little stiffly – and pulled out the dish. Oh yeah… she still got it

And if she moaned a little over-enthusiastically over the food – which was truly delicious – well, _Steven_ sure wasn't complaining. He might have forced more attention than necessary on his root-beer, but complain, he didn't.

"Why're you drinking root-beer?" she asked, then thought back and couldn't remember an incident since he'd come back where he'd drunk beer or wine or anything alcoholic, really. Was he…? "Are you … did you stop drinking?"

He scowled and tensed, closing himself off from her and the conversation. It still pissed her off, even though she'd come to realize that he did that whenever conversation started to get personal and involved his feelings and she _thought_ she understood that he did it to protect himself from …something. She didn't know from what – certainly not from her, right? But Jackie was sure by now that that's what he was doing.

It insulted her that he would hide himself away when she was open, mostly because he did that _exactly_ when she was being open. She felt like watching a dam brace against the oncoming tide, and she didn't want to be something dangerous, or sweep him away or break him. But the alternative was to stop telling him how she felt, and that just wasn't _her_. She might be able to learn, but honestly – she didn't want to. It was her, and Steven had for some reason decided he wanted _her_ and that included her feelings and her exuberance and her energy. There must be something in her that he liked – loved, she knew he did, even if he rarely said it in words – because otherwise, this whole 'one day you get this ring'-thing of his didn't make any sense.

"Yeah," he finally said after breathing out slowly. "I… It's not… I don't… Alcohol and me are not a good mix." It wasn't exactly a great declaration of everlasting sobriety, but Jackie would take it. It made her happy, because in all honesty – alcohol and Steven _really_ didn't mix well. Mrs Forman got giddy and happy, her mother got horny and slutty, and Steven got paranoid, angry and scowl-y.

And apparently married skanks in Nevada.

She thought vaguely that she should celebrate his no-drinking-resolve with something, but the thought about Vegas had destroyed her mood. Still, he was trying – and she could at least acknowledge that. "That's great!" Then she remembered that she was drinking wine. Oh. "Do you… should I drink something else?" A pity to pour it away, it was one of Amy's better choices, but she would. She could be supportive!

"No, it's okay," Steven smiled. "I don't mind. It's… it's strange, you know? I have no problem with drinking juice or coke or root-beer when I have company. Only when I'm alone… yeah."

Huh. Yes, drinking alone would certainly be a problem. Jackie hadn't even known he drank – used to drink – when he was alone. Then again – it did make a sick sort of sense. It also gave her a stab in the heart to imagine Steven in the Formans' basement in the dim light, drinking beer after beer with no company but the grainy TV and his records.

It was quite sad and very… well, say it as it is: trashy.

"Oh. Yes, I… well, if you don't mind, I really like this wine. It goes really well with this. Where did you get the recipe? Is it one from Mrs Forman?" She put some giddiness in her voice when she changed the subject, and inside cursed herself a little for making it easy for him again. But even though she wanted to push him into telling her stuff, she also remembered that pushing him – even if it was for his own good – usually led to him feeling forced or threatened.

She didn't want to threaten him. God, why was he so complicated! With Michael, she'd never had those kinds of problems. Well… except maybe she had, considering he'd told her that she'd made him feel bad about himself.

"No, it's mine. I learned it when I was working for Roy, remember? One day they didn't have anything but potato, cheese and a few vegetables, so I fixed this together and…" He blushed, as if he were embarrassed for actually learning to cook at his job _as a cook_. God, he was unbelievable sometimes.

Steven's many hangups notwithstanding, Jackie enjoyed the evening together, even if he made her dry the dishes. She told him about her work, what she was doing – scheduling, mostly, and sometimes, for a few minutes on screen telling people about interesting – or not – events in the city to go to – and he listened. He didn't talk much about himself, but she didn't mind that. He'd cooked for her, gone shopping, hadn't done anything typically 'Hyde' like smoking or drinking – oh, right, he wasn't doing that anymore. Weird! – and he got along with Amy and Aaron.

The last was pretty important. Jackie realized – sometime around ten with all of them sitting in front of the TV and eating popcorn, watching a 'Mary Tyler Moore'-marathon – that she wanted Steven to like her room-mates, but also for _them_ to like _him_. And while he and Amy bickered a lot, she had a feeling that it wasn't out of dislike. Aaron at least seemed amused, and he would know if the shit Steven threw at Amy really bothered her.

"So, how thin are your walls?" Steven whispered in her ear when Amy was preoccupied with Aaron.

"Huh?"

"Do you think anyone would hear us if we went into your room right now?" He stroked her thigh, caressing closer and closer to her crotch. She felt the erotic tickle of his light touches through her pants, and her heartbeat sped up.

"Uhm. I usually have to up the volume on the TV if those two get it going in her room," she whispered back, but she wished she could have told him it was completely soundproof.

"Hmmm," Steven murmured. "I guess we have to keep you real quiet then, huh?"

Abruptly, Jackie jumped up and pulled him with her, shouting "Excuse us, long day, tired, see you later," while nearly making him fall over the table in her haste. Amy laughed out loud and Aaron told them to have fun, and Steven might have given them the finger but who cared, she was getting sex, and whenever Steven said she'd have to be quiet, he'd do incredible things to her just to make her lose it and cry out anyway.

It mostly involved tongue and fingers and lots of creativity.

Her mouth went dry and she pulled him down on her bed with a force that must have surprised him, since he actually fell down. Steven laughed, though, so Jackie didn't wait around and pushed at his clothes and his belt, which made him laugh more and got her more and more frustrated.

"Stop, Jackie, wait. Let me get the buckle, and you get your bra, so we're even."

They got even a lot of times that night.

* * *

The time from Wednesday to Monday flew by much quicker than Jackie had ever believed possible. After the first two days of Steven exploring the city during her work alone and waiting for her when she came back, she'd told him to pick her up on Friday so she could introduce him to her work-friends. She'd been nervous as hell about it, wishing he'd make as good an impression on them as he'd done with Amy and Aaron. Then again, she shouldn't have worried – first-time meetings with Steven usually went very well, he could charm a fly from a carcass if he made an effort. He usually made an effort if she asked him nicely.

No, the true Hyde came out of hiding once he felt comfortable around people, so that would be the time she could really judge how her friends got along with him. Still – she'd have hated if his friends hadn't approved of him, and, even though she felt awful for admitting it, she wanted _his_ approval of her friends.

It was dumb, probably, and not empowering or anything, but she couldn't help herself. It was important to Jackie Burkhart that people around her liked, or at the very least tolerated each other.

Luckily, Steven got along with everyone he met quite well. Only Eggy was weary, trying to tell her subtly that he didn't approve that she spent so much time to make sure Steven liked her life, probably thinking it as Steven's fault for demanding that, or keeping her under his thumb. Egmont wouldn't understand where this was coming from, and that it didn't really have anything to do with Steven but more with her upbringing and her need for tidy little boxes she could order her life into. So far, everything was nicely packed away, only her boyfriend was usually sticking out wherever she put him, like that one stray sock that never quite wanted to stay in the allotted drawer.

Before she knew it, it was Sunday, and they'd spent the weekend exploring some of the interesting parts of the city. Jackie had managed to get Steven to take her up the John Hancock skyscraper to see the view – breath-taking, and Jackie wished that one day she could afford an apartment there – and they spent the whole Sunday in the Great America amusement park, with funnel-cakes and a three-armed Ferris-wheel and rollercoasters that made Jackie an unbecoming shade of yellow. She'd endured the rides, though, because it had been pure fun and made her feel young and silly and she forgot work and adult-stuff like taxes and boyfriend-troubles.

Now, she was standing outside in the cold, her jacket tugged tightly around herself, trying to decide what she was feeling while Steven put his bag into the Camino.

Yes, she had loved the time with him. Did she wish he would stay? Funnily enough – not really. Shouldn't she want him to stay forever and ever with her? If this was true love, shouldn't it hurt that he was leaving tonight and wouldn't be back until next Friday at the earliest?

Well, it did hurt thinking about waking up alone in her bed. She'd gotten used to having his warm body next to her, his never-to-be-mentioned tendency to cuddle and boy, would she miss the sex. He sometimes cooked – if they hadn't eaten out, or if Amy hadn't been quicker – and he never tried to get out of washing dishes or setting the table, but it felt weird, like he was trying to impress her.

Maybe that was unfair, but she'd never seen him _do_ that before. Steven had been a lazy teenager and a lazy nineteen-year-old when she'd first left Point Place, and then he'd bailed and so she didn't quite know if this was a new thing he now did everywhere and forever, or if he was walking on eggshells right now and would fall back into his male laziness in a few months.

She wouldn't complain about it, definitely not, since she _hated_ dishwashing. It made her hands all wrinkly and dry!

So, shouldn't she beg him to stay with her?

The only thing Jackie knew about her feelings right now was that she would _not_ beg. She could wash dishes and she could cook – or well, pick up a phone and order food. She was capable of doing everything domestic on her own – she didn't need Steven for that.

The downside of him being there had been her reduced alone-time. Back in Point Place, she'd been scared to be alone, always fearing to be forgotten one day or left behind, but here, in Chicago, she craved her moments alone.

It was time for doing her nails, for preparing for work the next day. Time for reading magazines as long as she wanted, for watching TV-programs _she_ liked and making popcorn as often as she wished. Time for just lying on the bed and listening to her records, and if she wanted to be entertained, she only had to say the word and Amy and Aaron or one of her friends from work would usually be happy to take her out for a night or she could go visit Brooke and Michael and her goddaughter.

Mostly, she just sat in her incredibly comfortable apartment, on the unbelievably ugly couch, munching on ice-cream or salted-caramel-chocolate and feeling… free.

She wouldn't want Steven out of her life, though. She still loved him, she was sure, but the clenching fear she'd felt the first time he'd left her – much less orderly than now, of course – wasn't coming, not even close. Seeing him pack his stuff a few hours before hadn't left her worried, only content and playful as she'd carefully un-packed one item whenever he turned his back. It had led to him pinning her on the bed and tickling her, which then had led to some more hot love-making, which had led to all his stuff being out of the bag again when it had fallen off her bed.

She hadn't minded prolonging the farewell.

"So," he said, turning to her with that boyish smile that she loved to see. He looked happier than she'd seen him in a long time. Freer. Relaxed, even.

Jackie was still waiting for that other shoe to drop, because this was _Steven_, and not Michael. There would come a moment in the future when something ugly would raise its head, but for now, she'd take the content man in front of her and roll with it.

"So," she replied. "Will you be back next weekend?" Jackie bit her lip gently, just enough to make him look so he'd remember her. "I need to see this exhibition for work, and I'd really love you to come with me and make fun of the pictures and the clothes of the people."

Steven laughed. "How can I say no to this enticing adventure? Sure, I'll be here. Just can't make it before Friday, this time. WB'll have my head if I close the store for so long again." He took a step closer and bent over, kissing her cheek, then her forehead, then, finally, her lips. Just little pecks, not the searing, passionate kisses she got lost in so easily.

These were even better, made her feel save and loved.

"That's okay, 'Curly'," she teased. "I can survive the week without you."

"Glad to hear that, grasshopper. Wouldn't want you to waste away pining for me."

She giggled. Not too long ago, she'd have been doing exactly that. Knowing it wasn't the case made her happy. "Call me when you get home. I don't wanna worry that you missed an exit and ended up in Oregon. Or Canada, this time," she teased and he barked out a laugh. Jackie loved that he could laugh about it, even if she wished he'd felt more ashamed for what his leaving had done to her.

She kissed him once more, forcefully and with as much of her feelings as she could get into it, then tugged her jacket even tighter. "I need to get inside. Drive carefully and give my love to the Formans. If you don't call me at least once, I'll find you and stomp you to death with my heels!"

~ End ~

* * *

_Okay, readers, that's it._  
_I'm still working on the next (and last) part of this series, it's gonna be a BIT longer still until it's done. Sorry in advance. But this here is a good place to stop again, so ... hope you had fun, would like to hear from you. If I made any terrible errors, please correct me on them._  
_All the best_  
_Marlowe_


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